


The Splendor of These Exploding Skies (Yet All I See Is You)

by ProblematicFavesAreProblematic (SaritaNotSerena)



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Jealousy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28535166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaritaNotSerena/pseuds/ProblematicFavesAreProblematic
Relationships: Charles Grant/Reader
Kudos: 10





	The Splendor of These Exploding Skies (Yet All I See Is You)

Even after knowing and loving you for almost half a decade at this point, Chuck Grant still found himself in awe of how beautiful you were.

Despite the fact that for the first  _ year _ at Toccoa the two of you hadn’t been able to stand being in each other’s presence for more than five minutes at a time- he still was able to acknowledge how attractive he found you. If anything, that awareness only added to his resentment of you and anything to do with you. 

You were too easy on the eyes to be as annoying as he found you. It just wasn’t fair.

In hindsight, he’d made a complete ass of himself during your first interaction- he’d been too drunk and too confident in his abilities to sweet talk women and too hyped up from his friend’s encouragement when he’d decided to make a move on you. Chuck couldn’t remember  _ exactly _ what he’d said, but what he  _ did _ remember was putting his hand on your ass and being slapped so hard his ears were left ringing for the next few days.

And, because he was young and cocky, he’d immediately labeled you as a prude and made it his mission to hate your guts. Even though he knew that he was in the wrong. Because that’s just how he was back then.

Had anyone asked Chuck then if he’d one day willingly share a home with you, let alone a bed, he probably would’ve punched them in the mouth. He imagined your response would’ve been similar.

_ My, how far the two of you had come. _

Chuck leaned against the doorframe at the mouth of your bedroom, crossing his arms across his chest and smiling at the sight before him. As much as he knew that you got embarrassed by his open admiration, he still couldn’t find it within himself to curb this bad habit.

The vision of you at ease was a sight to behold- especially after seeing you on edge for years on end.

Right now, you were sprawled on top of the bed the two of you had bought a month ago, dressed in one of your old stretched-out t-shirts and thick-knit socks and a pair of black underpants that showed the cute divet where your buttcheek met your thigh (a part of you that you also scolded him for paying so much attention to). The window towards the foot of the bed was open and the cool air from the ocean delicately tossed the finer strands of your hair around your head, the lights of the city at night making each hair glow like some radiant halo.

All of the lights in the bedroom were off, the skyline illuminating the room in a warm blue cast that never failed to make him feel at ease. Your head was propped up on your hand as you gracefully brought your joint to your lips and took a deep drag, tapping the train of ash onto the clay plate you’d made at a pottery class sometime before the war. Purple grey smoke slipped through your parted lips attractively, and Cuck felt his chest ache at the knowledge that  _ only he _ got to see you like this.

_ “Are you going to stand there like a creep all night, silly boy?” _

When Chuck refocuses, he realizes that you can see his silhouette reflected in the window’s glass, and he can hear the teasing smile in your voice. Stubbing out the smoldering joint onto the plate, he watches you press yourself up onto your elbow and turn to look over your shoulder at him.

He bites back a smile of his own as he hits the light switch in the hallway so the room is entirely dark, closing the door softly behind him as he starts to toe off his shoes.

“Sorry,  _ Dollface, _ ” he says in faux seriousness, using the terrible pet name he’d called you the first night he’d met you. “Got distracted by the view…”

You snort a laugh at that, turning back to look out the window and shaking your head.

“Careful, buddy- my boyfriend’s got a mean right hook.”

He rolls his eyes despite the fact that he knows you can’t see it, stripping down to his shirt and boxers and coming to join you.

“I don’t know,” he grumbles. “I’ve heard  _ you’ve _ got a nasty backhand as well.”

Using his hands to map out where your legs are, he carefully fits himself behind you like a familiar and comforting puzzle piece. While the side effects of his head injury were relatively minor compared to the severity of the wound, he still wasn’t always able to trust his eyes when it came to their depth perception. You didn’t seem to mind his way of accommodating this certain handicap. 

You weren’t shy to admit how much you liked his hands on you.

With the sort of ease that only comes from years of routine, you turn your head at just the right time for him to pluck a kiss from your lips, the taste of chocolate and cannabis on your lips. Chuck lets his legs tangle with yours as he rests on his elbow beside you, bringing his other hand up to cup the back of your head and keep your lips on his for a few moments longer. When you hum happily, he can’t help but smile.

He knows that today is difficult for you- the noise and the bright light and the cool bay breeze bringing back memories of  _ foxholes _ and _ biting frost  _ and  _ heartbreaking exhaustion _ . You didn’t smoke weed often, even less now that you’d been out of the military for a few years, so he knew that when you did that you just wanted to _ not remember _ for a little while.

You wanted to forget the bad and go back to the days when these festivities brought you joy and wonder. Chuck got that. The desire to shut it all off and just  _ live _ was too familiar to him.

And if you were willing to be there for him, he’d be damned if he didn’t do the same for you.

Pulling back, he lightly presses his fingers to the base of your skull, chuckling warmly when you nearly moan in relief.

“Hey there.”

You slowly open your eyes at his greeting, gaze open and slightly lethargic.

“Hey yourself,” you say with a sigh. “I missed you today.”

Chuck knew what you meant. After living together day in and day out for so long, coming home and establishing lives and routines of your own had initially been difficult. He’d felt bad about leaving you this morning, knowing how difficult this day in particular was for you.

“ _ Such a sap _ .”

Your easy expression twists into a comical scowl, your eyes rolling as you turn back to the window and make a sound of annoyance.

“Of all the idiots who propositioned me, I had to go and pick the most obnoxious—”

Chuck freezes at that, furrowing his brow in surprise and using the hand on the back of your head to gently fist a handful of your hair and turn you back to face him. 

‘I’m sorry, _ what did you just say? _ ”

Your eyes scan his face before a slow smile breaks across your lips, clicking your tongue admonishingly at whatever it was that you saw.

“Charles Grant, as I  _ live and breathe, _ ” your voice has taken on a wicked quality, one that he both loves and hates at the same time. “Is that jealousy I detect?”

He frowns at that, hating how well you can read him- even in your slightly intoxicated state.

When he doesn’t reply right away, you purposefully lift your backside and press it against his stirring cock. God, you knew how to irritate him- you could be such a brat sometimes.

Luckily, he had learned long ago the most effective way of curbing your obnoxious provocations. 

Tightening his grip on your hair infinitesimally, you let him crane your head back and hiss quietly at the sweet sting of it.

“Y/N, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were  _ trying _ to make me jealous.”

You smirk, wetting your lips before rolling your hips against him once again.

“ _ Me _ ? I’m just being honest- you can’t  _ truly _ think you were the only one to make a move…. _ shoot your shot _ , if you will….”

Chuck feels heat curl in his stomach, shaking his head at your insinuation. When he angles your head to bite at the lobe of your ear, you tremble beneath him with excitement- your antagonizing behavior had become a strange turn on somewhere between Alderborne and Normandy.

“ _ Who _ ?” 

You said nothing, your breath hitching in your throat as you feel the press of him against your backside. You knew how much he hated when you did that- knew how frustrated your silence made him. It’d been your silence that had led him to kiss you for the first time- the arrogant way you’d held your tongue to his baiting teases driving him so crazy he was willing to risk your wrath just to get a response from you.

With an angry sigh, he fixes you with a glare.

“ _ Fine _ .  _ Don’t _ tell me. I know how to get what I want out of that pretty mouth.”

Chuck swears he sees a self-satisfied glint in your eye, but before you can revel in your mirth he pulls away from you and makes you whine.

“Chuck, don’t go— _ oh! _ ”

The feeling of his hands gripping your ass tears a gasp from your throat, your head bowing into the mattress as he grips your hips and pulls them up so he can reach beneath you and squeeze your sex possessively. As expected, you’re wet and warm for him- a confirmation of your desire for more.

His name sounds sweet on your tongue, your voice muffled in the soft down of the comforter as you arch into his touch. Chuck’s mouth waters at the sight of your shirt’s hem sliding up your spine and revealing the bare skin of your back to him, and he doesn’t hesitate to press hot kisses to the newly revealed skin by your hip bones.

“How about this, Sweetheart?” he asks innocently, using the hand not rubbing at your sex to yank your underwear down your thighs. “I’ll give you a name, and  _ you tell me  _ if they were stupid enough to try something with you,  _ hm _ ?”

Your groan is unintelligible and unclear but when he looks down the slope of your back he sees you nodding vehemently.

_ God, you were perfect.  _

Using his index and ring finger, he holds open the petals of your sex and begins to play with your clit.

“Luz?”

Even with your face in the blanket, he can make out your scoff of  _ ‘no’ _ . Good. he hadn’t thought so, but it still made him glad to hear it.

“Shifty?”

One of your hands swats at his thigh, and you turn your face so you can make your words clear.

“ _ Charles _ , you were there when Shifty accidentally saw me changing-  _ what do you think? _ ”

Chuck chuckles at the memory of that- the poor kid had been so embarrassed that he’d nearly run into a wall in his attempt to escape the ‘improper sight’.

When you open your mouth to say something else, CHuck smacks your ass and your words are lost in a yelp of surprise.

“Chuck—”

“ _ Bull _ ?”

“ _ No _ . Obviously no, geez…”

He goes through the roster of Easy Company, getting the obvious  _ ‘no’ _ s out of the way: Buck, Winters, Sink, Strayer, Sobel, Blithe, Lipton, Speirs, Welsh. With each negative response, he lets you roll yourself against his hand- the sight of you so desperate for him working him up so high that he knew he was going to have to get inside of you soon.

The first ‘yes’ you gave was for Talbert, which earned you a bite on the curve of your buttcheek despite the fact that Chuck had already figured as much. Same went for Christenson- which he’d known already because he and Pat had first bonded over the fact that you’d rejected both of their advances.

Then came the first surprise-  _ Nixon _ .

“What?! Are you serious?  _ Lewis _ Nixon?”

“Does that piss you off, Silly Boy?”

Your tone is teasing, but there’s a hint of genuine curiosity in your voice that catches him off guard.

It did, actually- piss him off, that is. Chuck didn’t want to think too hard about why.

Not when this little game of yours just started to get interesting.

With another resounding smack to your backside, Chuck grips himself in his fest and coats his cock with the slick from your sex that had soaked his fingers. The idea of you with someone like Nix simultaneously inspired rage and pride in his chest- anger at the concept of a married man, your SO, looking at you in a way that was less than professional and pride at the fact that you’d still chosen  _ him _ despite Nix’s advances.

“ _ Chuck _ ,”

When he looks back at you, he sees that you’re looking over your shoulder at him with desperation, your face flushed with arousal and subsequent denial.

“I want you,  _ please _ don’t make me wait anymore…”

Well, he never had been very good at making you wait. 

The sound you make when he slips inside of you almost has him bursting right then and there- the sound so broken and full of want and lewd promise that it almost _ hurts him _ to hold himself back. Your hand has reached up and behind your head to grip his hair, pulling him down and over you in a haunting pantomime of how he’d covered you from enemy fire in the hellish woods outside of Foy.

You’re chanting his name like a prayer, babbling as you slip into a state of carnal bliss. When he kisses you it’s desperate and messy but you are still craning your head back at an angle that must be painful in order to continue it.

All jealousy takes a back seat to the feeling of this- your skin under his hands and your breath on his lips and the squeeze of you around him. It doesn’t matter, none of those other men and their understandable attraction to you matters because you are undeniably his. 

You chose him- you chose him when he was the picture of health and when he was nearly dead on an operating table. You’d held his hand as he healed and you’d taken him as your husband in a shelled out Austrian church with a priest and Ron Speirs and God as your witnesses. 

You were his, and that was all because you wanted to be.

His throat feels tight with emotion as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades as you cry for more- taking each rough rut of his hips into yours with a beautiful moan and a challenge for another.

Sex with you was more than a physical release, it’s a renewal of unspoken vows of devotion and dedication despite the knowledge that neither of you had escaped your war unscathed. His promise that he’d be yours each and every night when the horrors of memory plagued your dreams, and your reassurance that you saw him for more than his experiences, his trauma.

It was more than he ever could have hoped for in this life. Pre and post war.

Your chest vibrates beneath his, and when he is finally able to refocus he realizes that you’ve been trying to talk to him.

“ _ Look _ !”

The fireworks show has begun, the bursts of light looking magical and surreal over the glass surface of the bay. It’s beautiful, and he knows that despite your fear of the sound of explosives you cannot help but find yourself entranced by its splendor as well.

Chuck turns his face so he can see the reflection of your face in the mirror, the fireworks making the drawn pleasure on your face clear and coloring you in its brilliance.

When he makes you come apart beneath him, you’re awash in purple light and infinitely more glorious than the celebration outside. The bite of your nails into the meat of his thigh sends him tumbling into pleasure right behind you, and when he squeezes his eyes shut he feels like a firework himself- hot and infinite and sparkling in the cold air coming through the open window.

Your body is quaking beneath him, the electricity of your orgasm still dancing through you and making you clench around him painfully every so often.

Blind from his own pleasure, Chuck moves his hands up your sides to get a feel for where you are, repositioning his weight so he isn’t crushing you with his boneless body. The boom of the next firework shakes through his chest, and as he feels you coming down he smooths your hair from your face clumsily.

“ _ You _ married  _ me _ .” his voice sounds far away, his mind just as lost as he reminds himself of the most important part of his life. “You married me and you make me happier than I can say.”

The feeling of your lips kissing his palm has him opening his hazy eyes to take in your state of disarray. You were looking at him with more love than he had ever thought to wish for, and when you nod it brings tears to his eyes.

“Happy Fourth of July, Chuck Grant.”

Lifting his gaze, he looks back out of the window, where the firework show is coming to an end and soon the two of you will be left with the warm blue light once more.

You were right. This was a happy Fourth of July.


End file.
